


bikini

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Ethical Dilemmas, F/M, Moral Dilemmas, Sexual Fantasy, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But these are just thoughts, after all. No one’s the wiser, not even Jean, as powerful as she is. At least, he’s fairly sure of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bikini

“Professor,” Jean calls as she walks into his office. He knows she’s coming to see him, but he doesn’t expect her to be wearing a tiny blue bikini, her long red hair swinging behind her as she strolls toward him on endless pale legs.

He puts up his shields as quickly as he can; she quirks her brow at him anyway. He decides something must have shown on his face for a split second.

“Can we have our study group by the pool instead of in the atrium?” she asks.

“Of course. Just be careful not to burn,” he tells her. 

She smiles, and turns to leave. Charles watches her until she's no longer in view. 

As he returns to grading, he finds himself thinking of Jean applying Banana Boat to her pale skin, and wonders who'll be lucky enough to rub it onto places she can’t reach. Probably Scott. Scott’s a nice enough boy, brave, but… he’s a boy, not a man, and he’s not, Charles thinks, worthy of Jean. 

Anything going on out there right now would be entirely chaste, to the point where Jean might ask one of her girlfriends to do it. Charles would rather imagine the two of them alone, her on his lap. He thinks of unclasping that bikini top—in order to get at all of the skin on her back, of course—and then imagines sliding his hands around to cup her breasts and massage them with lotion-slick fingers, teasing her no doubt perfect, candy-pink nipples as she arches into his touch.

And then he has to stop himself. Jean’s just turned eighteen. She’s much, much younger than he is. There’s no way she’d appreciate him thinking this way about her. Especially not after she saved his life, saved the world. Surely she'd disapprove.

There was no reason for her to come ask him in person, he realizes some minutes later. She could have asked him from anywhere. Perhaps she wanted him to see what she looked like in that bikini. 

It couldn’t possibly hurt to imagine sliding his hand down her taut belly to work his fingers under the hem of the bottoms, or to think about peeling them off. Wouldn’t do for her to have tan lines, after all. 

He thinks of her sunbathing nude on some empty, pristine beach: starting to blush pink, sun-kissed; turning over, her copper thatch of curls glinting in the sun. Skin tasting of salt after a dip in the water.

He thinks of her in his lap; he's kissing her, a hand light on her jaw and the other tight in her hair, knowing she's wet just from this.

He thinks of her riding his cock, her eyes closed and lips parted in ecstasy; her soft cries like music, her mind sending him everything she can feel. In return, he shows her how beautiful she is, how utterly perfect.

But these are just thoughts, after all. No one’s the wiser, not even Jean, as powerful as she is. At least, he’s fairly sure of that.

And then again, perhaps she just walked to his office because she wanted the exercise.

When he has her in class later that afternoon, he tries not to look at her any more than he usually does, and is not at all sure he succeeds. That night, he keeps his shields up as best as he can manage, lest he accidentally show her his deliciously shameful dreams, but he has no guarantee she can’t tell, doesn’t know.

But why shouldn’t he think of her? She’s a stunning girl, she’s eighteen, and he’s a red-blooded male, after all, not dead yet. He tries to remind himself of that, but it never quite sticks: she's still his student, entrusted into his care. An extraordinarily gifted student, with a brilliant future ahead of her.

Regardless, the thoughts creep back from time to time, triggered by innocuous things: the sight of the curve of her long neck, her sigh as she uncrosses and recrosses her legs, the way she releases her hair from a ponytail and shakes it free. 

What if she does know what he’s thinking? The idea occurs to him more than once. But ultimately, it doesn’t matter—there’s no way he can even acknowledge it, let alone act on it. It would be entirely irresponsible, unethical.

Even knowing that, however, he finds his eidetic memory is useful for recalling exactly how she looked in that blue bikini.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks [afrocurl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl) and [gerec](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Thinking about You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289605) by [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris)




End file.
